3
Ross
I’d readenough novels across so many genres to understand how tension between two people was supposed to feel. I could recite poetry, analyse extended metaphors dedicated to the chemistry between people. Hell, I’d even dabbled at writing a couple of books—neither would ever see the light of day.
Even knowing all that didn’t prepare me for Dan’s return.
When I was a teenager, my crush seemed insignificant compared to now and how Dan filled my mind, and that was nothing compared to the time we spent together.
When he wasn’t at work, we were together in some shape or form. While Craig was with us a lot too, Dan had talked me into modernising my kitchen in the past couple of months.
There was no hardship involved with spending practically every weekend with the man and multiple evenings too. Except I wasn’t sure my heart could take it.
Every time I caught his gaze, the overactive organ tucked away beneath my rib cage would flip or do a straight-up somersault. And when he cast me that small secret smile that I’d convinced myself was just for me, a new circus performance would start up inside my body, my stomach joining in with the fun.
Between the acrobatics and the inevitable extended time of my right hand getting a workout, a strange level of exhaustion always seemed to nip at the edges of my being.
It was strange—and more extreme than the reaction of my eighteen-year-old self, or even the few times I’d seen Dan over the years. I could only put it down to being viscerally aware of every move the man took when he was close by.
And hell if I wasn’t terrified that I was becoming obsessed, with just how often I watched him when we were together. But the man took my breath away as easily as a balloon might steal the breath from my lungs.
“You need something?”
“Huh?” My eyes focussed, and heat spread up my neck. I’d done it again. Dan stood next to the sink he’d just installed, sealant in hand and amusement flickering in his gaze.
“You seemed in another world. No fair if you were and I wasn’t invited. That’s just selfish, leaving me out like that.”
I stood straight, leaning away from the door frame where I’d been perched, and rolled my eyes. “My imagination isn’t all that good. You’d be better off sticking to a book.”
As expected, he scrunched his nose. “Screw that. The movie, Ross. It’s all about the movie.”
I feigned indignation, this being a lifelong argument between us. “Don’t even,” I said. “The threat is still real. I’ll sit you down and force you to listen toGame of Thrones.”
He grinned in response, not seeming at all put out by that. Once again, my heart leaped, perhaps aiming for a trapeze. “Hanging out with you while you read to me for hours…” He trailed off and shrugged. “Worst. Punishment. Ever.” A wink followed, the gesture having a direct link to the somersaults taking place inside my chest. The man was my very own ringmaster. And didn’t that thought threaten to send me down a rabbit hole I’d struggle to come back from. “Wanna give me a hand?”
Yes, please.Instead of those words spilling out, I nodded. “Cupboard doors?”
“Yeah. You want to grab the screwdrivers and I’ll bring in the doors?”
“On it.”
Side by side, we worked together with idle chitchat, Dan telling me about a couple of his friends in Brisbane who’d recently married, and me sharing with him the details of my last trip overseas to Fiji.
“When’s your next school holiday?”
I peered up at him. “Next month, the end of September.”
He nodded before powering another screw into one of the hinges. “Any plans for trips away soon?”
“Not really. The world’s a funny place at the moment, plus there’s always something to do here, you know?”
Dan glanced over at me. “True that. What’s next on your list?”
Easing off my knees, I stood, groaned, and angled back. A satisfying pop of my joints followed. Before I could respond to Dan’s question, his “Fuck, I hate that sound,” had me chuckling.
“But it feels so good.”
His scrunched-up face looked somehow cute, despite his unshaven jaw and the streaks of dust on his cheeks. “But it sounds bloody awful.”
